Nazım

Birant// the happy shopkeeper

And here's the next chapter! I'm really happy with the feedback so far, alhamdulilah. In this chapter I introduce you to one of my favorite characters [shopkeeper Birant! ^_^].

This dedication goes out to Reaper333 because you and your writing style [SHIKSE <33] are both fabulous, and having a nice cup of tea while reading your story just makes things all the more better =D

This one gets a little dark, but bear with me.

X

[arabah]

B İ R A N T

{the happy shopkeeper}

Since his mother had been admitted into the hospital, Nazım had taken up a job at an assembly line in a car parts factory for the past several months.

This was several hours on foot performing a banal job of carrying heavy crates to other sections. Intoxicating fumes coming from canisters had seeped into his work uniform. He had barely made it to school on time because of this job, but the pay was enough for him to continue paying the hospital bills his father hadn't bothered to deal with properly.

Maybe it was just life's way of saying that it wasn't all fun and games anymore. And it wasn't like it ever was fun and games with him.

Nesrin had started the healing process not too long ago. Nazım had seen her one day playing a marble game with Murat just outside the house. Her face still lacked any color or life, though. Just like the laughs she feigned for the sake of her family. He wondered whether or not she could last like this forever; pretending nothing's wrong.

Per his usual schedule, he came home that night with his work uniform in his school messenger bag and was adorning a messy school uniform. It was easy to tell he quickly threw it on. His white shirt was untucked, his tie loosened and collar unfolded to let some air go down his neck. The top two or three buttons at the top had been unbuttoned to help the air flow to his chest. Winter may have been nearing but it didn't mean the nights weren't warm, still. Nesrin had come earlier than him from school, so he didn't have to unlock the door to come home.

Home, however, was a different place now. To Nazım it was a building he, Nesrin, Murat and their father lived in. This building, squeezed in between two others, didn't deserve the title of home. At least, not to Nesrin or Nazım. With Murat, they tried to keep him far from their father whenever he was on some sort of rampage.

He noticed the lights were off in the house, so he guessed Nesrin and Murat had already gone to sleep. It was fine, because despite being famished, he was much more tired, and so he tossed his messenger bag to the chair by the door and went right upstairs to the room he and Murat shared. The bed across Nazım's was empty so Murat must have been with Nesrin for the night.

It didn't matter. The second he fell into bed, his nerves relaxed and his muscles had too. The soles of his feet were pulsing with blood from lack of pressure and it felt so pleasant to him. For some reason, it was rather hard for him to sleep, and he turned on his side, thinking random thoughts. Then, a small smile tugged at his lips.

Just thinking about Zeren coming to his small town tomorrow had brought him a great happiness.

"Look, what do you think?" Zeren asked, holding up a crudely drawn newspaper headline.

ÇELIK VERSUS ŞAHIN

"Why can't my last name be first?"

"Because the winner's name is always in front, okay?"